His Eyes Have All the Seeming
by JayRain
Summary: When Dorian asks Theo Trevelyan what he really wants, it seems the possibilities are endless. Until Theo realizes it's not what he really wants, and that this really isn't Dorian. (Set during the events of Trespasser, or chapter 17 of "Show Must Go On". Can stand alone. NSFW.)


_His Eyes Have All the Seeming_

 _And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,_

 _And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;_

 _And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor_

 _Shall be lifted—nevermore! ~Edgar Allen Poe, The Raven_

Warm, sweet breezes smelled of summer: cut grass, roses, and Andraste's grace, sunlight and tilled soil. Gauzy curtains billowed into the room. Theo yawned and rolled over. Dorian was already awake, watching him with his lovely silvery eyes and a small smile on his face. "How long did I sleep?" he asked, blinking the grit from his eyes.

"About a day or so, but you needed it." Dorian reached out and brushed Theo's hair off his forehead.

"What happened?" Theo stretched out his arms and shoulders and reached for Dorian.

Dorian snuggled into his hold. He was warm, too warm for the summer heat that had begun to seep into their room with the sunlight. But it felt so good to hold him, so relaxed under the light sheets after the last few days. They hadn't had time like this since his return from Tevinter and the start of the Exalted Council. And now…

"Does it matter? The Viddasala is defeated, the Agent of Fen'Harel apprehended," Dorian told him, nuzzling his neck. Theo squirmed as his mustache and warm breath tickled. "You're a hero. The Council is forever in your debt. I, however, never doubted you." He reached down and took Theo's hand, the one that had been touched by the Fade. Theo flinched reflexively; it should have hurt. But Dorian's touch was soft and soothing as his fingertips traced along his palm.

"I don't remember it going away," Theo said softly, holding up his hand. He'd done this so many times before: stared at his palm and his fingers, twisting his wrist and clenching, unclenching, feeling the constant tingle and occasional heat of the mark. The last half year the pain had gotten nearly unbearable. For it to suddenly be gone was a relief, but also strange. "You'll be able to sleep properly now," he teased, rather than dwell on it. The Anchor was gone. How it had happened wasn't important.

"Darling, as long as I have you beside me, sleeping is no problem." Dorian took his hand and wove their fingers together. He pressed his lips to Theo's. Theo closed his eyes and pushed thoughts of Fen'Harel and the Anchor and the Viddasala to the back of his mind. It was finally over, and that was all that mattered.

Dorian tangled his hand in Theo's hair, holding him so close Theo could hardly breathe. Dorian wrapped a leg around Theo's hip, his need pressing into Theo's. He got a quick breath, inhaling the scent of vanilla and spices mingling with the sweet summer air. So much better. So different from… "Where were we?" he asked, pushing Dorian back, gasping for breath.

"Besides about to take one another passionately in celebration of all this finally being over?" Dorian asked him. His pale eyes glistened as they bored into Theo. His cheeks were flushed and his lazy grin never faltered.

Theo tried to recall the last few days. He had fragmented images, like a broken mirror in his mind. Mirror… yes. Mirrors. The Eluvians. The Qunari plot. The agent of Fen'Harel, and always the pulsing pain of the Anchor chewing him up from the inside out. If he'd been asleep for over a day…

"I should tell Josephine what happened. She'll need to inform the Council," he said, even as Dorian stared at him, eyes hooded and breath coming in shallow bursts. "Then we can-Dorian, what-"

Dorian straddled him, pinning him down, hands around his wrists holding them above his head. He stopped Theo's protests with a deep kiss, tongue twisting in his mouth. Dorian's grip was strong, and he had settled heavily on Theo's abdomen. Theo struggled to break away, to get a breath, put the shattered pieces back into some sort of order. "Something wrong, love?" Dorian asked when Theo finally managed to turn his head away and inhale deeply. He released one wrist and trailed his fingers along Theo's clavicle.

"The Council?"

Dorian released him and rolled back onto his side. His fingers danced along Theo's chest, barely touching him. The bright morning sun was almost too bright, in spite of the curtains. The air had grown humid, and Theo kicked the sheets off of him. Sweat trickled down his temple.

"Arl Teagan is forever in your debt," Dorian told him. "Don't you remember? Silly. Of course you don't. You've gone through so much. You're still so worn out. Arl Teagan went back to Ferelden with his tail between his legs. Fitting, no?" he asked with a grin. Theo blinked. Dorian's teeth almost looked pointed. He had to be seeing things. He was still exhausted. Dorian was just grateful it was all over and they could be together now. "And Duke Cyril? The look on his face when you marched into that chamber and told him just where he could take himself!" Dorian chuckled. He traced his finger over Theo's bottom lip. "But that's all so boring. You'll be back to your Inquisitor business in no time. Let's take advantage of this chance we have together, shall we?"

He leaned in, more gently this time, and Theo lost himself in Dorian's soft kiss and gentle touch. "Can we stay here then? Just you and me, forever?"

"Of course, love."

"You don't have to go back to Tevinter?"

Dorian smiled. He looked at Theo as if Theo had just said the silliest thing in the world. "Not if you don't want me to, my love."

"Don't they need you there?"

"They'll get along fine without me. Isn't this-us, here and now-preferable?" He pouted. "You almost sound as if you _want_ me to leave."

"No, I want you to stay, but… Dorian, this doesn't feel right," Theo said suddenly. The sunlight was shifting and the breeze almost hot. The flowers smelled sickly sweet, the scent cloying and fighting with Dorian's cinnamon-vanilla aroma. The sheets were twisted around his legs and his hips and the more he tried to kick them off the more tightly they wound about him.

"Stay here, my dear," Dorian said, leaning on one elbow, tracing the fingers of his other hand over Theo's stomach. His pupils were so large, so dark; the silvery irises had all but disappeared. His fingers left behind a stinging trail; Dorian held up his hand-how had he grown his nails like that? Dorian always preferred short and neatly manicured. His long, pointed nails were dripping blood. He leaned over and his tongue flicked out, licking the blood from the scratches he'd left behind. "You won. We never have to be apart again. Ferelden and Orlais recognize their error. You're not a man to be trifled with-unless I'm doing the trifling," he teased.

This was a nightmare. Yes. That was the only explanation. Theo struggled to get free of the bed sheets. He turned away as Dorian leaned in for another suffocating kiss. He had to wake up. He tried not to blink; every time he closed his eyes it was harder to open them, or maybe he just couldn't see from the strange brightness. The sicky sweet dying flower smell made him gag.

"This isn't what I wanted," he blurted out suddenly.

Dorian sat back. His eyes narrowed, though his pupils remained blown wide with unchecked desire. The brightness was absorbed by his deep, dark eyes. "Shall we try again?" he asked.

Theo blinked. When he forced his eyes open he was in their chambers in Skyhold. Dorian handed him a bottle of wine. "From Tevinter. A gift from my parents, believe it or not,"he added with a chuckle, shaking his head. "Drink, Theodane. It was a long journey to get here, and we have a long day ahead."  
He had made himself a nest of blankets and his dark hair stuck out at odd angles that Theo had to resist the urge to flatten. Theo just shook his head; Dorian shrugged and tipped the bottle back, a small trail of wine dribbling out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin. "What's on the agenda?" Theo asked, standing and stretching, the nightmare just another part of the fragments in his mind.

"Judgments."

Theo cocked his head to the side. "Still? I thought the Council wanted to put an end to that." He glanced down at his hand. Much like in the nightmare from which he'd woken, the Anchor was gone. At least that much was real. He still had that feeling in his head though: fragmented faces and light and dragons and wolves. Images that he couldn't put back together.

Dorian smiled as he finished off the bottle and climbed out of bed. He moved gracefully, almost feline in the way he stepped on his way to the wardrobe. "You're the Inquisitor, love," he reminded Theo, as if he could forget. "How about wearing this? Brings out your lovely eyes." He held up a green shirt. A breeze from the open balcony doors caught it and as it rippled, the green shifted and broke into shades: dark as pine fading to pale as new leaves. He draped the silken shirt around Theo's shoulders and paused to kiss him: long, gentle, warm.

"I had the worst nightmare about you, you know," Theo told him as he dressed.

"Did you now." But Dorian didn't seem interested in hearing, and while that was uncharacteristic, Theo just brushed it off. If they'd had such a long journey, Dorian was likely tired as well. He dressed, his white robes bright and pristine and looking almost pale violet as the material swirled around him. He took Theo's hand and escorted him down the stairs.

It hardly felt like his feet hit the stones. He felt a bit dizzy, like he was floating, but like he could fall at any moment, until he was suddenly sitting on his throne looking out over the crowds amassed before him. The dragon skull throne felt too large, as if it truly were about to swallow him up. The throngs of people filling the great hall shifted as he looked out: faces blurring, muffled voices. He thought he saw his father, but when he squinted the face changed.

The crowds parted to make an aisle for the day's judgments to be led in. The long line of prisoners shuffled in through the great door of Skyhold, mostly shadows against the brightness of the outdoors. As they neared and his eyes adjusted he had to struggle to remember why he was sitting here, why he was judging these people. He sorted through his broken-mirror-mind. Mirrors. This all had something to do with the mirrors.

Dorian leaned on the throne next to him. "First on your docket is Arl Teagan of Ferelden," he announced, and sure enough Teagan stood before Theo in heavy chains. "He is charged with treason against the Inquisition."

"Why didn't Josephine brief me on this?" Theo whispered. "And where is she now?" he added, looking around.

Dorian trailed his fingers along Theo's arm, his touch nearly burning through the silk of his shirt. "It doesn't matter. You are the Inquisitor, and those who question you must be brought to task."

Theo stared down at Teagan. "Your worship, I don't deserve to beg for my life," he said at last. "After what you did, stopping the Qunari plot… I was wrong to try and stop you. With all you told us, the Inquisition surely is necessary. I even cede Redcliffe to the Inquisition as a thanks for your mercy," he added, daring a glance up at Theo.

Teagan had spent the whole Council acting like Theo and the entire Inquisition was dangerous, as savage as one of their Fereldan hounds, and needed to subsequently be put down. He'd done everything he could to force them to disband. But the Qunari invasion attempt proved that Theo's organization was still necessary. It was good of him to see reason. Still… "Arl Teagan, the Inquisition accepts Redcliffe," he announced. "But I cannot abide you joining the Inquisition and risk you sowing discord. Neither can I exile you and risk you raising a force against me, though surely I would crush it," he said, staring down at Teagan, who, to his credit, nodded. "I sentence you to be executed at sundown today. Let all know what becomes of enemies of the Inquisition," he announced, and Teagan was led away.

"A just sentence, my love," Dorian murmured. He'd sat at Theo's feet, gazing up at him with adoring eyes and a lazy grin, for all the world looking half-possessed by a cat.

"It was, wasn't it," Theo said with a smile, reaching over and resting his hand on Dorian's silky dark hair. "Bring forth the next."

Mother Giselle stepped forward, head bowed in contrition. "Inquisitor, it was wrong of me to deceive you and to put you and your love in danger," she confessed before Theo could say anything. "It was wrong of me to send for your father without asking you, and to insinuate myself into your affairs in such a way. I've wronged you personally in many ways, and though I meant to be an ally of the Inquisition, I fear I've become your enemy instead." She kept her head bowed, unable to look at him.

"Mother Giselle. Your initial wrong was against Dorian. As Inquisitor, I proclaim Dorian Pavus fit to make this judgment." It only seemed right. That's all he wanted, was to do the right thing; that wasn't so terrible. The crowd seemed to agree. There were no murmurs or surprised glares in his direction. Whatever had happened at the end of the Council had certainly put the people in their place.

Next to him, Dorian leaned forward. "Mother Giselle. Your actions were based on your assumptions about Tevinter. I can see no better way to educate you than to exile you to Tevinter to serve under our Divine. What he chooses to do with you is up to his discretion."

Mother Giselle's eyes went wide and she tried to protest, but she was already being dragged from the hall. Theo watched her go, not particularly missing her, but there was an unsettled feeling in his stomach. "Little excessive, don't you think, love?" he murmured to Dorian.

Dorian rose, his loose robes flowing down his body. He perched on the arm of the throne and no one in the crowd of onlookers seemed to think anything of it. "You _did_ turn her judgment over to me," he said, sliding off the arm and into Theo's lap. He straddled him and clasped Theo's face in his hands. "Tell me you wouldn't have done something similar?" he asked with a smile. His pupils were huge, even in the brightness shining through the stained glass behind them. His eyes absorbed the light and the darkness stared back into Theo. "What was that you once said about snogging on the Skyhold throne for all to see?" he asked.

His lips were warm, his kisses urgent, his need evident. "Everyone's watching," Theo gasped out as Dorian pressed himself into him all the more.

"You've saved the world. Several times now, if you remember. You may as well enjoy what you've earned, no?" Dorian leaned in once more, those huge dark eyes hypnotizing Theo, drawing him in, so dark he couldn't even see his own reflection.

Mirrors, broken and cracked. Mirrors with no reflection. Mirrors like upright reflecting pools, surface shimmering, a gateway to the world beyond, the forgotten world, the old world.

"You're not Dorian," Theo said suddenly.

Not-Dorian grazed his fingernails along Theo's scalp and cheeks. "Does it matter who I am? I can give you everything you want." Suddenly they were back in bed upstairs, the balcony doors open and the sheers blowing in with the sweet wind. Too sweet, dead and dying flowers sweet. Silk sheets warm and slippery beneath their naked bodies.

"What do you want from me?" Theo asked. This had to be a dream. Or another nightmare, since Not-Dorian suddenly had slightly pointed teeth once more.

"It's not what I want from you, but what you want from me: the accolades worthy of your name and station. The chance to rise above and rule over all. I can give you that. That and more. Just let me have you." He raked his nails down Theo's sides, dug into his cheeks, and squeezed. He dipped his head down, his long tongue teasing his member, and then the heat of his mouth was driving Theo mad with desire.

Desire.

"That's not what I want," Theo gasped, pulling his foot back and kicking Not-Dorian in the shoulder. He scrambled back, away from that seductive mouth and clever tongue, away from those blown-wise pupils and clawed fingers. "Dorian would know that. I never asked for power like this. I don't _want_ to rule the world. I only ever wanted to do the right thing." He forced his eyes closed. He saw Dorian- his Dorian- in his mind and all the fragmented mirror pieces were coming back together.

"Leave me," he whispered.

He opened his eyes. Where Dorian had been sitting, a well-built young man sat. His skin was pale purple, his eyes impossibly dark, absorbing the light and trying to draw him back in. Smooth, obsidian horns curled back away from his chiseled face. He stood, showing off his sculpted backside and well-hung member. "You're certain? It's what you want?" he asked, still with Dorian's voice.

Theo looked down at his hands; the left one spat angry green sparks and pulsed with a dull ache that he knew all too well. A world where he didn't have to worry about Fen'Harel's agents, or the Viddasala, where he could reign over the likes of Arl Teagan and Mother Giselle… tempting, but not what he truly desired. "Just go," he whispered, closing his eyes.

* * *

He stood on a balcony in Skyhold with cold mountain breezes rifling through his hair, and only the scent of damp stone and cold. "This can't be real either," he said aloud, looking around.

"It isn't." Dorian stood next to him. "Take all the time you need, _Amatus."_ He leaned against the railing, his eyes sweeping over Theo. They were Dorian's eyes, warm silvery grey with those slight flecks of gold in them. He didn't smile, but he wasn't frowning, either.

"The time I need. Not the time I want?"

He shook his head. " _Amatus_ , I've only ever been concerned with what you need. Sometimes it's pleasure, sometimes it's cold reality, and it is always in your best interest." This sounded just like Dorian, his Dorian. Theo reached out to touch him, and Dorian smiled, his normal slightly amused smile. "I'll feel quite solid to you, because you expect me to," Dorian told him. "We're in the Fade, after all, and you just survived an encounter with a desire demon, a fairly nasty one at that."

"I'm not a mage though."

"Your times bodily in the Fade, combined with whatever this is," he said, turning Theo's hand over, "seem to have made you more susceptible to the Fade's pull in your dreams than most non-mages." He clasped Theo's hand and squeezed, sending warmth into him and calming him. "If you trust me I will pull you back."

"I trust you," Theo said without hesitating. Dorian quirked an eyebrow. "Your eyes. They're yours. I'll always know that."

At that Dorian wrapped his arms around Theo and leaned in until their foreheads were touching. Theo rested his hands on Dorian's shoulders and felt the thread of Dorian's magic working into his mind, pulling the pieces together as he pulled him back toward reality.

 _This_ was what Theo wanted.

* * *

Theo yawned and rolled over. Dorian was already awake, watching him with his lovely silvery eyes and a small smile on his face. "How long did I sleep?"

"Just through the night," Dorian told him. He rested his hand on Theo's forehead and a thin stream of mana touched his mind. "You seem no worse for wear. I would venture to say that all of this is getting to you though."

"You love to understate things, don't you," Theo said, closing his eyes and feeling Dorian's touch. "This is real, right?"

"Yes."

Theo looked into Dorian's eyes, searching for the hypnotic blackness and finding only Dorian. "I take it I have a long day ahead?"

"Now who loves to understate things?" Dorian pulled him into his arms. "Shh. One quiet moment won't result in sudden destruction."

"It could." Theo snuggled against Dorian, smelling cinnamon and vanilla, sweat and the hint of oiled leather. "It will wait. Right now I need this. I need you."

Dorian kissed the top of his head. "Then far be it from me to deny you your needs, _Amatus,_ " he said with a slight chuckle deep in his chest.

The Qunari threat was real. The Exalted Council and its demands were real. But Dorian, holding him and protecting him from the siren pull of the Fade, was real, too, and that was worth more than any demon could offer.


End file.
